


Share your burden with us

by RaspberryDevil



Series: shattered bones and truths [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Gen, Literal Sleeping Together, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-27 02:14:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21384403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaspberryDevil/pseuds/RaspberryDevil
Summary: Leonie doesn't waste a second and joins Claude on the bed, never hesitating when a spot is free. She had called it preparation for her future as a mercenary when she joined him in bed for the first time, though hadn't elaborate what this exactly meant. Claude doesn't really care for the excuse and is pleased to have her with him like this. She doesn't kick like Ignatz nor suffocates him like Raphael and her hands aren't as cold as Lorenz' when she is the one spooning him. Very nice.(Not that he complains about the others, he enjoys to have them in bed with him as well.)Or: Claude might not have been touch-starved before, but after the last events, he might have to reconsider this assumption.
Relationships: Golden Deer Students & Claude von Riegan, My Unit | Byleth & Claude von Riegan
Series: shattered bones and truths [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1515560
Comments: 6
Kudos: 76





	Share your burden with us

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to “Sleep away the pain dear friend” a story which was supposed to be a stand-alone. But then I was tempted to write an instalment after they find out what the relics are... but also an aftermath of Claude's recovery with cuddles, exploring the line “(Okay, maybe not the touching, a small still sane part in his mind says, he likes that. He might have to think of a way to convince them to stay with him like this more often.)”. I could have combined this but in the end you get just two stories.
> 
> This is Golden deer route exclusive, so despite of the temptation, there are no other characters' reactions. Also I know that my shipping bias might be obvious, but this is meant to be platonic, I promise!

It hasn't even been a full moon since his recovery when Judith and Nader seek him out.

  
  


Leonie had presented Claude with his new bow just a few days prior, offering to train together to see how it works out for him. At first he had been worried about using one again, remembering the feel of Failnaught shattering in his hands. But he easily adapted. He had to. Allowing fear to keep him from doing his job was not an option – even if the thought of changing his class was tempting.

(There haven't been many leaders of the Alliance who had been Dancers after all.)

  
  


"Heard that you've been training again. Is the bow good?"

  
  


It's a simple way to start the conversation, an excuse to make sure that he's okay without being too overbearing. Nader's smile is friendly, probably in order to appease him, but at the same time he's not hiding how he looks him up and down. Claude doubts that Nader is that interested in his training, even if he had been his former instructor, but he appreciates his attempt.

  
  


"Yes, thank you."

  
  


No lie. The weapon felt lifeless in his hands but he appreciates the fine craftsmanship. It was not a bad one, and once he'd gone past the uneasiness (funny, considering the weird feeling Failnaught had sometimes caused), he didn't want to give up on his new weapon which is different from the standard equipment.

  
  


"No problem. Besides, it's a present from your father."

  
  


Claude holds his breath for a second, caught off-guard by this admittance. He hopes that the other one hadn't realised.

  
  


"I see. Does he know?"

  
  


"That you've been cursed?", Nader wonders, shaking his head, "No. Your mother is slightly annoyed that the relic had been destroyed. But her annoyance is only half-heartedly, I bet it's because your grandfather can't do so any more. Who knows with that woman."

  
  


Oh. A curse? So that has been the cover story. This makes sense. But it also means that even Nader doesn't know the whole truth. Good. Altogether, being cursed by the enemy sounds much better than almost being turned into a demonic beast.

  
  


"Better the bow than her son."

  
  


"That's true."

  
  


Nader is amused, but when Claude looks at Judith, he can see that she doesn't seem to share the sentiment. There is no need for him to address it. He could skip it, ask how the troops are doing. Maybe bring up the strategy he'd slowly worked on the past days. Instead, maybe also because he's learning to be more open, he addresses the issue. Somehow, at least.

  
  


"Are you angry?"

  
  


She sighs. The tension seeps out of her shoulders, but only slightly. When she looks at him again, he's not sure what to make of her expression. Sometimes, he forgets what all the fighting had done to her. She is a strong women, but she had lost so much as well and exhaustion can be hid easily. He speaks from experience here.

  
  


"Maybe a bit. You should know better than to allow yourself being wounded like this. In your position, you need to be more observant."

  
  


Claude shrugs. He had been careful, or he thinks that he had been. He had no memory of this battle. He had tried to ask Cyril, unsuccessfully, how exactly the ambush had happened. Hilda who had done some asking around could barely tell him anything new as well. As much as this lack of information annoys him, he doesn't want to dwell on it.

  
  


"Probably"

  
  


(He'll never be able to tell them the truth.)

  
  


"I wouldn't be able to look your mother in the eyes if something had happened to you."

  
  


"Oh?"

  
  


Claude's curiosity is piqued. She doesn't mention her often, so it'd be a good opportunity to ask her more. Pry a bit, discreetly of course. I'd be a lovely chance to hone his skills, considering the lack of scheming, as some might like to says, these past days. But as if she suspected it, she continues.

  
  


"Our your friends."

  
  


Ah. right. He can't help the smile tugging at his lips – it's slightly amusing if he thinks about it. They weren't able to look him in the eyes as well, at least for a short span of time. While he had been bedridden, they had made sure to keep eye contact. To reassure him of their presence. There had been a weird week following after that, in which they were trying to find their place again. He couldn't fault them for that. They had been closer than usual for a reason and now that the reason was gone, they needed to reassess their position. At the same time, they had to figure out how much they could – wanted – to push their boundaries.

  
  


And Claude's longing probably didn't help with the situation.

  
  


(It's very sweet that those two care for him though, even if he feels like they treat him like a child; just this time, he allows them to get away with it.)

  
  


* * *

  
  


Ah, the thing with the longing. Claude doesn't mean to make a big deal out of it. Really. Before his injury, they haven't been physical close. But now, while trying to re-establish the old boundaries, he's kind of missing it. This sort of closeness. He doesn't want to sound like a spoiled brat though and knows that he doesn't have the time to allow himself such a behaviour. Still. Everything would have been easier if he could just casually ask them to lend him a shoulder to lean on. Ask them to sleep over again. Maybe ask for an occasional hug.

  
  


Instead, he keeps these emotions to himself. Not that he can really hide it from them. Surprisingly, Hilda is the first of the Golden Deer who takes action. To be fair, she is one of the few and always the first who manages to look past his mask, but there is a difference between observing something and calling him out. Yet that's exactly what she does this morning.

  
  


They still have some time before their war council begins that day, so they plan to use this time in the empty room for some preparations. Lorenz is rehearsing a speech and Hilda at least pretends to listen while Claude is busy with some last time adjustments to his own strategy. Which he isn't really successful with. It's probably because Hilda is annoyed by him glancing over every few seconds instead of focusing on his tactical plan in front of him that she says something.

  
  


“Aw, come here you big baby.”

  
  


Despite of her annoyance, there is some fondness and Lorenz can't hide his own amusement as well. But just to be sure, Claude doesn't let her tell him twice. He takes Hilda's place on the chair at the round table and allows her to sit on his lap. That way, he can easily rest his chin on the top of her shoulder and loosely wrap his arms around her waist.

  
  


“Any comment about my sturdy thighs and you can get yourself a Raphael to hug”, she warns him before she tells Lorenz to continue with his report.

  
  


“But I like your thighs.”

  
  


“Good.”

  
  


“I also like Raphael's hugs.”

  
  


“Who doesn't”, Lorenz mutters, though he doesn't give them a chance to reply and finishes his presentation without interruption.

  
  


(And when they don't separate until the last of the usual attendees enter the room, shortly before the meeting begins, nobody comments on it.)

  
  


* * *

  
  


"Who is this?"

  
  


Claude hadn't meant to interrupt Ignatz, but when he sees the unfinished picture, he can't help himself. Thankfully, Ignatz doesn't seem to mind the interruption. There is a reason he keeps the door to his room open – while it's still difficult to fight the urge to defend his hobby as nothing more than a past time activity, he's trying. Painting in his room where people can seek him out is a way to get used to this.

  
  


"Oh, good evening Claude. It's nobody specifically. I meant to work on another portrayal of Saint Cathleen. At one point, I realised that I couldn't get the image in my head quite right but felt like I was going in the right direction, so I allowed myself to paint whoever it was I had in mind. This is the result. It's not so important though, not even finished yet, please don't - Claude?"

  
  


Ignatz interrupts himself when he realises that Claude remains quiet, concern showing on his face. He would have expected some teasing, a 'so you think she's not pretty enough yet?', but none of it follows. Claude sighs, slightly annoyed with himself that he had spaced out. It had happened a few times before and every time he promises himself that he won't allow it to happen again.

  
  


"Forgive me. I just... they remind me of someone."

  
  


"Do you want to talk about it?"

  
  


He waits a moment. Claude shifts his weight from one foot to the other. Then he sits down. Ignatz waits another few second before he picks up his brush again. Claude doesn't like it when they can see behind his mask, so he appreciates it that Ignatz tries to focus on painting instead of him. It's a bit easier then, telling him the truth, the part he can tell someone without admitting too much.

  
  


"I saw a person in my dreams. Your painting reminded me of them."

  
  


"A women?", Ignatz wonders, considering his own intention with the painting, though it's mostly to give him an opportunity to continue the conversation, a thread he can follow.

  
  


"I don't know. Could be either. Or neither. All I know is that it seemed like they had been in pain, but then it had been my pain and I was them..."

  
  


He trails off, unsure how to continue. Claude hadn't talked to anyone about this yet, not because he doesn't trust them (though he still tends to overthink once in a while ). It's mostly a self-preservation thing and while he might have thought about addressing it at one point, he's never find the right moment before.

  
  


"Sounds... like a lot of pain for one person."

  
  


"It was."

  
  


"Was there anything else?"

  
  


Claude pauses for a moment. He appreciates that Ignatz doesn't push him, probably hoping that he's going to open up instead of withdrawing again. He doesn't have such luck.

  
  


"Oh yeah, dinner is ready. You might want to hurry up before Raphael gets to it.”

  
  


_This is not what I meant_, Ignatz intends to say, but then the meaning sinks in and he almost drops his brush.

  
  


“Why haven't you said so sooner?”

  
  


They love their friend, but even though he learned to leave some food for them, you can never be too sure. Yet Ignatz can't be angry at Claude for the delay.

  
  


Not when he hears his carefree laughter after weeks of pained smiles.

  
  


* * *

  
  


It happens once a week – or maybe twice, he doesn't bother to count – that he feels rather lethargic. He isn't sure if it's an after-effect of his injury or if the war has finally exhausted him. It doesn't escape the others' notice though, whatever the reason might be. Especially Lysithea is quick to be by his side then. She provides him with sweets, extra sugar to keep his energy high, and lets him get away with his teasing; if he manages it at all.

  
  


Today, Claude is occupying her bed, lying on his side and an arm outstretched. Marianne is filing his nails, idly chatting about her day while he listens. It seems stupid to do something so mundane at this time, but neither comments on it. Not even Lysithea who provides some commentary here and there while Claude remains quiet.

  
  


At one point, they almost manage to convince him to let them paint his nails. Almost. They'll probably get there, nowadays he's in a rather yielding mood around them. A bright colour on the short nails of an archer, Marianne had approached the topic, mentioned how yellow has always suited him. Though she thinks that a nice forest green would look pretty as well. As long as it's not red, Lysithea said and he had been to tired to think about the meaning behind that.

  
  


(Unbeknownst to him, they think of claws tearing through flesh.)

  
  


“Oh, a slumber party.”

  
  


Leonie doesn't waste a second and joins Claude on the bed, never hesitating when a spot is free. She had called it preparation for her future as a mercenary when she joined him in bed for the first time, though hadn't elaborate what this exactly meant. Claude doesn't really care for the excuse and is pleased to have her with him like this. She doesn't kick like Ignatz nor suffocates him like Raphael and her hands aren't as cold as Lorenz' when she is the one spooning him. Very nice.

  
  


(Not that he complains about the others, he enjoys to have them in bed with him as well.)

  
  


Of course there are rumours. But they don't care when this means other rumours are lost in the general gossip of nobility. It does apparently annoy one or two people, but as much as Seteth wants to scold him for it, he remains quiet – they aren't doing anything immoral. He simply keeps it to a glare whenever Claude winks at Hilda and she theatrically fans herself. Sometimes, it seems like he only lets them get away with it because he's glad that they are okay. Alive. He probably had been really pitiful, Claude thinks.

  
  


"No, just in pain", Marianne said when he had shared his thoughts with her.

  
  


She's the only one of them who won't share a bed with and he's fine with that. It's not just about him being comfortable. He won't push their boundaries. He'd take what he'd get. Besides, he enjoys those chats as well. And his nails have never looked nicer.

  
  


“Busy day?”, Lysithea asks.

  
  


“Something like that”, Leonie replies before exhaling a deep breath and pressing her face against Claude's back, mumbling “some idiot thought hiring some bandits to attack one of our troops was a good idea.”

  
  


“It's not a bad plan. You're just too strong for them.”

  
  


“Awww, are you trying to flatter me?”

  
  


“It is the truth”, Lysithea says, “I don't see the problem with mentioning that, don't you think so as well?”

  
  


Marianne agrees and Claude manages an affirmative hum. Pleased with their reply, Lysithea nods and Leonie laughs lightly before asking how their day went. Claude doesn't participate in the conversation, even though they don't say anything new. Instead of paying attention to their words, he focuses on their voices. And so it doesn't take long until those lull him to sleep.

  
  


(When he wakes up, it's with a warm weight against his back as well as a mouthful of white hair. He's really not complaining.)

* * *

"Have you thought about growing out your hair?", Lorenz wants to know during their tea time with Hilda.

  
  


Claude pauses. Indeed, his hair has gotten longer, even though it hadn't reached past his shoulders yet. He's not sure how far he'll allow it to grow, however knowing that his life will be even busier once the war is over, he doesn't think that he'll find the time to cut it.

  
  


"No. But I also don't think about my appearance."

  
  


Hilda snorts.

  
  


"Liar."

  
  


It's less about vanity and more about making a proper appearance to charm other people. Still. Claude knows how to dress himself in order to make the right impression. This includes sloppy looks to 'prove' others' impression of his laziness.

  
  


"I might do it. Though it makes me look more like my father", he muses, even though he knows that neither has met his dad yet and can't really compare, have to take his word for it.

  
  


"Don't we all start to resemble or parents the older we get?"

  
  


"No", Hilda and Claude say at once, startling Lorenz.

  
  


"Excuse me?"

  
  


_You don't look like your father at all,_ is what they probably should say. He does resemble his mother, but it's the way he carries himself which covers any resemblance. They don't say any of that. It would only embarrass him and today was supposed to be void of any of this. No teasing as well. Even though he loves teasing them.

  
  


It's something the other's have a difficult time adjusting to. Claude hadn't really changed, or so he thinks. He is a bit more open, but only because this experience had taught him that he could trust them. Without them, he's pretty sure that he wouldn't have survived.

  
  


“And what are you smiling about now?”, Lorenz wants to know, confused.

  
  


“Nothing”, Claude shrugs and takes a sip of his tea; he really loves all of them, doesn't he?

  
  


* * *

  
  


"I'm going to hug you now"

  
  


Claude looks up from the map on the table, startled. The declaration as well as the fact that Raphael is still here after the meeting ended are equally confusing. But Raphael doesn't seem interested in clearing said confusion. He just stays where he is and Claude takes a moment in bewilderment to face him completely.

  
  


Raphael seems to wait for his okay, so Claude who is a bit speechless just lifts his arms in an inviting gesture. The other one grins and moves in to embrace him. Not sure what it is about – but not complaining – he places his hand on his back, returning the hug.

  
  


"Hilda mentioned that you liked my hugs so I thought it's a good way to cheer you up after this meeting."

  
  


"Oh."

  
  


"I didn't understand everything but I can tell that you're not completely pleased with the outcome of the meeting."

  
  


"Yes."

  
  


"And the rest seems to think you deserve a longer break even if it's difficult."

  
  


"Raphael?"

  
  


"Yes?"

  
  


"I need to breath"

  
  


"Of course! Sorry”, he laughs, taking a step back, “Are you feeling better?"

  
  


Does he? Well, he hadn't been lying about liking his hugs, but it's not like physical contact can help with the big headache all these problems caused. Still. It's a nice gesture. Claude could get used to it. Huh. Maybe they are truly spoiling him.

  
  


“I do. Thank you.”

  
  


Raphael grins.

  
  


“Don't worry, anything for my friend!”

  
  


* * *

  
  


"I do not snore"

  
  


"Only someone who snores would say that."

  
  


Claude, due to his childhood and the war, is a light sleeper. Apparently, he still hadn't fully recovered from his sickness which had caused him to sleep most of the day, hours spend in bed instead of the library or the training grounds. It's the only excuse he has for waking up in the middle of a disagreement instead of the beginning.

  
  


"Love you, but both of you snore", he mumbles into the pillow.

  
  


"Well, then I guess you can sleep without us."

  
  


There is more bite behind Lorenz' words than Claude would have expected. Oh. Seems like it's been something else they had argued about. He's too tired to discern the meaning though. Instead, he turns on his back and grabs both of them, pulling them close.

  
  


"Too late. Now sleep. It's –", he has no idea what time it is, " – too early for this."

  
  


There is no protest, quite the contrary, they are surprisingly quiet. When he softens his grip on them, they shift around to lie more comfortably.

  
  


"Careful, Claude. You start to become docile", Hilda says and Claude who uses every opportunity he gets, just laughs lightly, telling them that he didn't know that they prefer him biting.

  
  


"We do not", Lorenz hisses, "you and your nonsense are-" Claude sighs dramatically, loud enough to interrupt him.

  
  


"Alright, are you going to tell me what happened or do I have to figure it out on my own? Because I'm not in the mood to think."

  
  


A bit too direct, maybe, but he really is sleepy and those two couldn't have chosen a worst moment. But he also doesn't want to be prepared for this; it's a talk he'd rather not have. While those two never hesitate to tell him their honest opinion, he - "You almost died, Claude."

He hadn't expected that. Especially not from Hilda. Lorenz goes still next to him. Neither adds anything to that. It takes Claude a moment to reply to that.

  
  


"I know."

  
  


"No, you-"

  
  


"Hilda, I know”, Claude interrupts her, looking at the ceiling and not them, “But we're in the middle of a war. I can't allow myself to think about this all the time."

  
  


He's thinking about it often enough when he's on the battlefield. About their experiences with death as well. How close some fights had been. The spear which had almost done a finishing blow to Marianne a few months ago. The Thoron which had forced Raphael to withdraw and leave Ignatz open to an archer. With only a battalion to face them.

(Sometimes, it felt like he had lost them already, but whenever that feeling comes up, he looks at Byleth and feels a sudden calm.)

  
  


"Once everything is going to calm down, I will think about this for longer than a few passing seconds. Until then..." _Please let me have this_, he thinks but doesn't say since it's still too new, feeling like this.

  
  


"Fine."

  
  


"Thank you."

  
  


They sleep with their backs turned to him and while this hurts a bit, he can't blame them. At least they didn't leave. And this has to count for something.

  
  


(He wakes up with their arms around his waist, so maybe everything is forgiven after all,)

  
  


* * *

  
  


Byleth doesn't say anything when the dynamic of their group shifts.

  
  


Still, he's not sure what to make of it. It doesn't seem to be a hindrance. They still make rational decisions, more or less. Are focused when they are on the battlefield. Their determination to win had never been stronger.

  
  


But afterwards, they don't care if anyone saw. Claude could be seen leaning against Raphael, taking a nap. Or with his head in Leonie's lap, hands brushing through his hair. Sometimes, Ignatz was not in his room but sharing a bed with Claude.

  
  


It was unusual. But in comparison to other people, he didn't wonder if Claude was actually going to die. That they indulged him until his last breaths. That is, until Lysithea is sharing some sweets with him without any teasing following.

  
  


"They are fine. Maybe a bit touch-starved before and trying to fix it now", Shamir reassurances him when he mentions it to her.

  
  


"I see."

  
  


He doesn't. But it seems to be something they need, so maybe he'll try to understand.

  
  


“Don't look so troubled. He found a place to belong for now.”

  
  


It sounds like an inside joke, considering the way she smiles, so he doesn't ask what she means with that. But this conversation sticks with him for a while, and he still thinks about it when Claude joins him at the pond that afternoon.

  
  


"You look tired", Byleth says without sparing him a glance.

  
  


"I had worse”, Claude answers with a shrug, “Besides, I have company to deal with it."

  
  


"So I've heard."

  
  


To some people, it might have sound judgemental and if it had been coming from Seteth, this is probably what it would have meant to come off as. But Claude knows his professor for a while now and even though he can't see his face, it's easy to guess.

  
  


"Do I hear amusement in your voice?"

  
  


A short pause. More for the effect than actual hesitation to answer the right way.

  
  


"Maybe."

  
  


"Are you teasing me, Teach?", Claude wants to know when he sits down next to him, though it doesn't sound like an accusation.

  
  


"Does it bother you?"

  
  


"No. I'm glad. It's rather annoying, all this pity."

  
  


Byleth just hums. Even though he doesn't share this sort of experience, he had his fair share of pity already. It's really not something he likes. Still, Claude seems like he can use a bit more comfort. Sitting down and loosening his grip around his fishing-rod, he decides to call it a day. Once he draws Claude's attention with it, Byleth pats his thigh. He other one is not sure what to think of it, but he's tired and sure that he's going to regret passing up this opportunity. So he moves and makes himself comfortable, his head resting on his thigh.

  
  


"It's weird", Claude says after a minute of silence, wondering how he allowed himself to think that it was actually a good idea.

  
  


"Is that so?"

  
  


"Are you humouring me?"

  
  


"A bit”, Byleth admits and pats Claude's head.

  
  


"Now I feel patronised."

  
  


Claude does not whine, really, nor pout. But he does feel a bit like he's treating him like a child and looking back at the meeting he had with Nader as well as Judith, it's like a deja-vu. Still, he's smiling, grateful for his friend's attempt to spend him some comfort.

  
  


“My apologies", Byleth says, just a bit of slyness in his voice, "It's late. Should we get dinner?”

  
  


Claude gets up before he can ask again, a bit eager. It's good to see. He's not sure if Claude has been aware of it, but he hadn't eaten as much as he used to. Granted, he'd always been reserved when it came to meals (Lorenz had told him, once, that you don't survive as a leader for long if you eat any food which is presented to you). But for a while he had been worried that he was going to keel over eventually.

  
  


“Sounds like a plan. I hear there is a good amount of fish on the menu.”

  
  


For the first time during that conversation, he properly looks at them and Byleth wonders how much a person can change and yet not change at all when Claude winks at him.

  
  


“Good. I like fish.”

  
  


(Marianne had been right – hearing Claude laugh again is really uplifting.)

  
  


* * *

  
  


It seems like all the pain hadn't been in vain when he considers how much closer they grew. A small comfort. They are still at war, the danger is far from over. That's why he tries to enjoy this time. All of them deserve it, to breath and not fear. There are enough nightmares keeping them awake.

So it's a good thing that he has his friends with him, spending him comfort and company. Seriously, Claude doesn't know what he would do without them.

  
  


And neither do they. Silently, they promised each other to take care of their leader – their friend –, each in their own way.

(Honestly, they think that they've been rather successful.)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this self-indulgent story! I thought about tagging this as character study, but it's honestly not that deep...?


End file.
